Out of the Fire
by lightblue-Nymphadora
Summary: Hermione knows she's going to die here. It's just a question of when... Sequel of sorts to I'll Make It.


**Out of the Fire**

They were talking about her. She struggled to hear through the thick wooden door. Lying perfectly still on the ground, she was able to make out snippets of conversation.

"That filthy…."

"Be reasonable. I think it's…."

"…going soft, my dear Rodolphus…."

"….called the smartest witch of the age…."

"Won't the Potter boy…."

"…can't be risked…."

Hermione struggled to a sitting position. This was it, she thought. They would kill her today. No one was coming for her, and if they were really debating what to do with her…. Well, Avada Kedavra couldn't be any worse than the Cruciatus Curse. And then it would be over. The pain, the worry, the sorrow…it would be gone. She'd be free again.

And maybe that was why she met Voldemort's eye when he and Bellatrix strode into the room.

"Bellatrix's husband thinks you could be of use to us," he hissed quietly.

"And what use could a mudblood be to you?" she asked.

"I see you're already learning well," he chuckled. Either he missed the sarcasm completely or was choosing to ignore it. "Perhaps your husband is right, Bellatrix. "Perhaps these…vermin can be taught their place. Perhaps they can be programmed to fit our regime."

Okay, maybe they weren't going to kill her. Hermione snorted, of course they weren't going to kill her. That would make it easy on her. No, more torture was in order. Still…she found she didn't care. The pain in her legs had gone on for so long that they were numb. She wheezed when she breathed, and she was pretty sure Bellatrix had cracked a rib the night before. Among other things. But she'd seen the worst, she'd felt the worst…now they were starting to bore her. She wondered idly how long it had taken Neville's parents to go insane. How long would she be able to last?

"Something amusing, mudblood?" Bellatrix snarled.

"No…I just had a thought."

"Ah, always thinking," Voldemort said. "They call you the brightest witch of your age, do they not? But Lord Voldemort knows your thoughts, mudblood—"

"Is there another word?" Hermione asked suddenly.

And this seemed to throw both of them. After a moment, Voldemort's face smoothed back into its apathetic stare.

"I do believe you've addled her brains a bit, Bellatrix."

"No," Hermione said. "It's just that when you keep repeating the word 'Mudblood' it sort of loses its punch. You should come up with other names, if you're serious about ruling the world and all that. Your PR could do with some work, is all I'm saying." Hermione gasped as Bellatrix hit her with a curse.

"The trapped girl mocks us," Voldemort said. "But as I said, I know your thoughts. You long for release. You provoke us to get us to kill you."

"Actually, I was thinking about creative ways to kill you," Hermione gasped.

"I cannot be killed!" Voldemort shouted.

It was a lie, Hermione knew. All a lie. He could be killed, and Harry was seeing to it. Harry and Ron were seeing to it. And that was enough. They could torture her, and waste time here. That would give Harry and Ron time to hunt….

"It is folly to believe otherwise," Voldemort continued. "But I have more important business to attend to. Do with her what you wish, Bellatrix."

Hermione watched him leave. It seemed that her tormentor was waiting for him to go as well, because Bellatrix didn't raise her wand for some time after he'd left the room.

"Now, what shall we do today, little pet?" she asked, twirling Hermione's wand in her hand.

A blast like a cannon went off, and debris sprayed into the dungeon. There were noises, and there was movement, but everything was just a blur to Hermione. She coughed and wheezed, trying to expel the dust from her lungs. There was the constricting feeling of Apparating, and a god awful pain around her torso, and then there was stillness.

"She's splinched."

"Oh god, she looks awful."

"I'm going to get Molly," said the calm voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

There was the sound of running footsteps, and Hermione finally opened her eyes.

"Hermione?"

"George?"

"You're safe. You're going to be okay."

She struggled to view her surroundings.

"Don't move. You're going to be fine. Ron got word to us," he said in a constricted voice.

Hermione closed her eyes again.


End file.
